


All the Ethereal Stuff Today

by sailtheplains



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M, Gen, Snippets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-02 21:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11517696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailtheplains/pseuds/sailtheplains
Summary: Sometimes, when I play this game (because I've played it a bajillion times), I just want to stop and write about a particular moment. So I figured I'd keep track of 'em here.





	1. Heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

> Tifa and Cloud meet up in Midgar after Zack is killed outside the city.

Sometimes Midgar was terrifying. He waded into the city, disjointed and alone. No one dared approach. Another addled drunk with a stupidly large sword, step around him so he doesn’t grab for your ankle. The whole world was spinning. He shuddered with a bone-chattering cold or gulped in metallic air, hot as a desert. Zack’s scent was still heavy in the wool of the Shinra uniform. It was the only thing that stayed constant. 

And the heartbeat.

Midgar had a peculiar sort of heartbeat to it. It was the only way Cloud hadn’t somehow wandered out by now (right?). It pulled at him, drew him closer, the paths he walked followed the great power hosts of Midgar. The technological feat of the age. It looked like a horrible metal forest. Where the snakes were large as airships and they buzzed constantly, a shrieking wail that he could hear inside of them. So close to these souls but unable to help them. He followed them, helpless to the compulsion. 

Something was coming.

He could feel it. Zack would feel it. Where was Zack, anyway? There was a reason he was here. He had been _brought_ here. The warm mako energy brought him here, to sector seven. It brought him here, drawing him close to the blaring hum of engines that spit out all manner of shit (and fires, typically a few times a week) that supplied the upper crust as a power hub. 

_Who is Zack?_

Who is tha–

“Sir, are you all right?” Tifa said softly, staring down at him. She knelt and started pulling a scarf out of her satchel to wipe some of the blood off his face. “What happened to you? You look terrible.”

He stared at her. Tifa was standing over him. She was looking at him. It jerked him back into reality like a slap to the face. She had been there when Nibelheim _burned_. He was sure she had _died_. But the last few years had been a horrible blur in the laborat–

_Where am I?_

“Tifa? Tifa?!” He leaned up, touching her shoulder. “You’re alive. I didn’t know--are you–”

Tifa stared at him. “I–what? Sir, I–” _Are his eyes glowing? They’re so blue, like–_

“Oh my god, _Cloud?!”_

“I never heard what happened after Nibelheim. How did you get out of the reactor? Who got you out?”

She froze. “What?” She asked, softer.

Cloud pushed himself to his feet. He was much taller, broader now. Military life had clearly agreed with him….and yet….he seemed. Very thin. Like he hadn’t eaten in a long time. He looked starved, scrappish, unhealthy. 

_His mom was killed too. What happened after the reactor? I thought that was a hallucination because I was dying._

“When you were hurt? Sephiroth–-he–-I thought I–-he slashed you, right?”

 _That_ hadn’t been reported. In fact, it had been very carefully _not_ reported. How the hell would he know that? ShinRa had allowed no mention of it and yeah, Cloud must have joined SOLDIER but he hadn’t been there. The last time she’d seen him was seven years ago in Nibelheim, right before he left to join. 

“Sorry,” Cloud suddenly said, somewhat awkwardly. “I never did pick up world class manners. You’re alive, is the important thing. How are you doing? I never would have expected to see you here. What brought you to Midgar?”

Tifa took a very steady breath and nodded a little. Something uneasy hovered in the back of her mind. “Cloud…are you okay?”

“Huh? Wh–yeah, yeah, I’m good. I’m fine. Sorry.”

“You’re fine, Cloud. It’s okay, it really is. I’m sorry. You just–-you took me by surprise a little bit. It’s been so long and–everything that’s happened." She glanced away, licking her upper lip. "Come on, I own a bar in this sector. You look like you could use a drink.”


	2. Honesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Advent Children sucked but I always have to stop and laugh at some of the ridiculous-stupid plotholes.] 
> 
> Yuffie shows that she cares. Just a little.

Yuffie threw her hands in the air. “Are you _fucking kidding_ me?! You left _ALL_ our materia in the church? What the--why would you do that? You live in the _SLUMS!_ What the--"

Tifa scowled, hands on her hips. “It was _her_ place. We didn’t want to use it again. It’s where she--”

“AERIS IS **DEAD**.” Yuffie screamed the sentence at her like a brand of hot iron. And the indifferent, sarcastic mask that Yuffie had on most of the time cracked off. A scared young woman stared at her in rage and horror. Yuffie took a deep breath. “And I wish you guys could come to terms with it. And now, because of your _carelessness,_ you left everyone’s materia in an abandoned church in the middle of the fucking slums to be picked up by some cheesy Sephiroth knock-offs that look like those cheap plastic imitation toys you find in Wutai! _Are you insane?!”_

Tifa’s shoulders curled in. 

“You wanna think about Cloud, that’s great. I like Cloud. He was nice to me when he didn’t have to be. He gave me a second chance and he treated me like he was my big brother. A giant dweeb. And I wouldn’t be the same without Cid. He’s the best. And I got to meet him because of Cloud. Aeris and I didn’t get along. I thought she was a snob, she thought I was rude because I saw through her weird act. But I never would have let her die if I could help it, though. You could trust her in combat, so that was all right. She just had to simper for the guys and they’d fall right at her feet. It was arrogant and annoying. She asked me to teach her some staff techniques. And for every snide comment about me being a childish little bitch--because I was _sixteen_ back then, if you’ll recall. Which--need I remind you that you were a selfish little _bitch_ at sixteen, so I don’t really think you’re one to judge--for every snide comment, I’d flip her off her feet. It made her furious. I’d never seen her so angry. She was playing the perfect little princess but it wasn’t working. It was childish but I felt vindicated. But at least she was actually _here_ then. You and Cloud or whoever--using Aeris as an excuse to not take responsibility for the _things-that-can-be-used-as-city-destroying-weapons_ being placed essentially on the sidewalk with a box of kittens next to it that says: FREE and then acting surprised when, oh wow, hey--turns out if you leave city-destroying orbs out, people will take them and destroy things. _Go figure.”_

Tifa swallowed hard and glanced at Cid.

The pilot shrugged. “I’m with the kid on this one. I think maybe you and Cloud should sit this one out, sis.

“He will never be able to sit back and just watch this,” Tifa murmured, looking at the floor.

“That’s funny, cause you sure as hell act like his mother. He’s still messed up--I don’t blame him for that but he’s an anchor and chain to you, Tifa. You’re holding yourself and him back. You can’t treat him like he’s your twelve year old brother anymore. He doesn’t look at you that way and we all fucking know it. So woman up and take care of it. He’s waiting for your signal. I mean, I didn’t think you were stupid. So are you just blind?”

“I’m sorry....” Tifa shuddered, curling her arms around herself. “I’m so sorry...”

“You should be,” Cid told her sternly, crushing his cigarette in his fingertips and shoving the remaining nub behind his ear. 

Everyone was quiet.

Tifa glanced up, shaking, to meet Yuffie’s eyes, to meet Cid’s eyes. She had never more needed their blunt truthfulness than right now. She shuddered again and nodded. “I’m......” 

Yuffie took her arm with a deliberate, heavy sigh. “Bring it in, sis. It’s okay.”

She awkwardly patted Tifa’s back as the other woman finally burst into sobs. Yuffie bore it patiently for a minute or two and that was almost too....close or something. She extracted herself, Cid nobly stepped in to take her place. He put an arm around her and combed his fingers through her hair and murmuring comforting things like, “I’m gonna slap him around the face and neck when he gets back. Just you wait, sis.”


	3. Vincent the Turk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [I always imagined him being somewhat loosely composed--I guess like mist or sand. Because he can change forms and the forms are so drastically different that I imagine his soul is solid in the middle--but he's rather ghostly on the outside unless he wants to...feel more through his skin? I dunno. It's an interesting idea.]
> 
> Just Vincent and Cloud talking  
> \------------------------------------------------------------

_He was there when I was there. Right in the next room when Sephiroth…._

Watching Vincent move was _strange_. He was like a ghost, barely constrained by his form. His clothing was almost…a part of him. Cloud wasn’t exactly sure it was real-real and, well, it seemed rude to ask. But he examined sometimes, when he was on watch in the middle of the night. Vincent often lingered awake, though usually he went hunting or tended to his guns alone. But tonight, he sat near Cloud by the fire. 

“You can rest if you like, Vincent? I’ll keep watch.”

“I have rested, Cloud, but thank you.” Vincent’s voice was low-pitched but very even. He betrayed little of his emotions in either tone or inflection. He was quiet, often lurking in the shadows, accustomed to the dark after seventy years essentially in stasis? Cloud wasn’t completely clear on the details. Anyway, the poor guy had clearly been through a lot given the pitiful state they found him in. Even Yuffie was treating him rather gently—gentle for Yuffie, anyway. So, no vampire jokes yet. 

“We’ve barely made camp, Vincent. How long could you have rested?”

“Long enough,” he said, voice soft but firm. 

_Right, hey, remember when we found him in a coffin in a death house in my hometown that I’ve been having nightmares about ever since--_

“Right,” Cloud stuttered a little, fighting the chill that went up his spine. 

Vincent’s eyes sharpened immediately. He watched the twitch go through the young man. The Turk in him piercing with his gaze. “Cloud.”

The young man was sturdy-built and strong. He shuddered, trying to shake off whatever had come over him. Vincent felt a dam of _despair, rage, pain, helplessness, fury, needles and lights and--_

Vincent reached forward and touched his arm. 

Cloud shook himself, startling back into his head instead of his memories. The boy looked down at Vincent’s hand. The flesh one was strangely cool, but firm and strong. Little shadowy whispers hurried along his skin, chasing the tinted flesh up into a ragged sleeve or hem. It was most obvious in Vincent’s hair—long and unkempt from sleep (at least, until Aeris got ahold of him), how the whispers trailed ever-so-faintly after. He wisped more than he walked. Half in this world, half in another. It felt oddly _familiar_.

“Sorry,” Cloud blurted out and jerked away a little. “I, uh—sometimes get these—stupid spells. I mean—not spells like materia—spells like dizziness and stuff. It’s really stupid.”

Vincent watched him with that dark, creepy gaze and then said, like creaking door, “Were your eyes always blue? Before the Mako, I mean.”

Cloud started a little, staring at him. “I…” That creepy gaze was dark, critical, analyzing, a _Turk’s_ gaze. “Yes? Were yours always red?”

Vincent pulled away from him. “No.”

Cloud felt something pierce into him as Vincent fixed him in place with those red eyes. And then the Turk turned and walked away.

Cloud felt raw, needled, uncertain. Almost exposed. But he didn’t know why. It’s not as though Vincent could read his thoughts, right? _(Right?)_

The ghostly man disappeared without a sound, haunting into the forest like a shadow.


	4. Burden of Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aeris and Cloud have a moment while discussing Vincent with Cid and Yuffie
> 
>  
> 
> [I have this headcanon that I started writing a while ago about Cid's childhood. So that is what I draw from when Cid remembers it.]  
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Sometimes I don’t think Vincent feels the same as the rest of us. At least not on the….”

Well, not really the inside. But. Not the outside either. 

“Not on the…in the dark-dark, the deep-dark. Um.” Cloud fumbled, looking down and trying to figure out how to word it. 

“His spiritual self?” Aeris suggested.

“Yeah!” Cloud said immediately, gratefully. He drug his hands through his hair. “Thank you. I never knew what to call it.”

Cid and Yuffie exchanged looks. But not cynical ones.

“Many people call it many different things. I say spiritual because that's how I understand it. My mother used to call it _Otherself_. And Vincent, like Cloud, spent time being infused with Mako. He and Cloud are alike…in some ways. They both have Mako-eyes. But Vincent’s are different.”

“What does that difference mean?” Cid asked, sitting back in the grass and starting to roll a cigarette.

“Potentially nothing,” Aeris said, pacing in the grass before them. “It depends on who they are at the core. Whose soul is there? Vincent is fundamentally good. I can _feel_ it. The man he used to be. But it’s….the Planet tries to speak to Vincent. And sometimes he hears but he can’t understand.” Aeris crossed her arms, embracing herself and looking out at the sea. “Sometimes I wonder at the effect, at the damage that Professor Gast did. At the lengths Hojo went to…the lives he’s destroyed just to try to create someone…like _me_ and Sephiroth.” A shudder went through her, and it made everyone suddenly aware that she genuinely _felt_ their anguish.

Cid paused in rolling his cigarette, narrowing his eyes and glancing at the girl. She reminded him, very sharply, of someone he’d known in school. The boarding school he’d been sent to after his father found himself dead at the bottom of the basement stairs and his mother pulling all the strings she could to get him and his brother and his sister sent to. He’d met another little boy there. Trent Winter. _(We all called him ‘Twitch’.)_ He was a stick-thin little ferret of a kid, always muttering to himself and never seeming quite focused. But had the magic skill of a goddamn seventh year and a strange uncanny way about him and sometimes he’d have these fits—

Yuffie looked down at her gauntlet. The materia pulsed inside of it. She could always feel it. It always spoke, wanting to be used. To be understood. To be _understood_. And how some, like Gravity, made only to _hurt_ were the saddest to use. She could always _feel_ the pain—

Cloud stared at her. Feeling a strange sense of déjà vu that he couldn’t explain. And felt compelled forward, forgetting about the other two. Something about the rawness in her aura, the _pain_ of the Planet that she constantly…. _experienced_. Felt would imply that it sometimes stopped. But the Planet’s pain never did. He didn’t know what to do. And he didn’t have a plan, he just went forward and gently touched her shoulder. “Aeris….”

She looked up at him with those moss-green eyes and she felt his warmth and saw something new and familiar at the same time. He felt like Zack. He _felt_ like Zack but also…himself. Maybe it was just the product of SOLDIER training? 

Aeris shook herself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get drawn in.”

“It’s okay. It must be really hard,” he said quietly, meeting her gaze as his hand slid from her shoulder to her back, just under the top knob of her spine. 

She looked away, leaning into him a little. “…….thank you.”


	5. Roof Droppers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just Aeris thinking about Zack and Cloud and Vincent  
> \-----------------------------------------------

The first time she saw him, he was running down the street, skidding around a corner and weaving around the herd of people. Something big had exploded or crashed, from the sounds of it. But he was one of the faces that didn’t looked panicked. He just looked focused of being _elsewhere._

He had a massive sword and a faintish sort of glow, though. Maybe that was what made Aeris suddenly say, “Excuse me? Sir? Do you know what happened?”

She wasn’t sure what she expected. He moved like a fighter, a mercenary. Maybe she thought he’d brush her off but instead, he did a slight double-take at her. For a moment, he looked comically lost, all that serious focus snapping apart like wafers. 

“I—uh—it’s—uh, it’s nothing,” he managed and his shoulders flexed, shifting awkwardly. “I wouldn’t _go_ that way, though. I mean, it’s—something exploded.” And then he stopped, suddenly looking self-conscious, as he noticed her basket. “Oh. Don’t see flowers much around here.”

Aeris watched him, how the Lifestream reached for him but he couldn’t reach back. How interesting. “Oh, um—I sell flowers,” she said in a rush. “I—would you like to buy a flower?”

His eyes went automatically to the bundle of bright, soft blossoms. “Oh. I—yeah, yeah. Uh. Here.” He dug out a gil and offered it to her. Aeris lifted her hand slowly, watching his eyes follow her as she took the heavy coin. He looked tired, exhausted. Pale and drawn and somehow…underweight, despite his broad shoulders and heavy sword. 

“You should get outta here. I imagine police will be swarming the city by morning,” he said.

 

 

 

It scared the devil out of her when he slammed into the church ceiling. He’d clearly hit a clothesline from wherever he’d fallen, given that he was tangled in a long blue sheet. It snagged, though, on one of the broken boards and jerked the young man to a stop before he hit the ground. The sheet tore and then he fell into her flower bed.

Aeris scrambled up and raced over. “Oh my god, are you all right! Sir?” She knelt next to him, already _reaching_ with her Cure materia. His shattered collarbones and broken arms buzzed, burning and numb as they reformed into the shape the Lifestream remembered. Aeris gently turned the young man over and gasped, realizing it was _him._ The strange man who bought a flower. His spirit, his connection to the Lifestream was a lot like Zack’s. How strange. And this young man was solid, strong and muscular. He just looked so tired…

He started into awareness very abruptly and his eyes were a brilliant searing ghostly blue….

_…like Zack’s…._

How strange. Aeris looked at the flowers, the only place in Midgar where flowers could grow. Where the lifestream still touched the earth. She’d pondered if it had _brought_ Zack here (with his night-dark hair and glacier-blue eyes). And now, here was Cloud, with his SOLDIER eyes and, ah yes, a mercenary. It was the same. A strange sense of déjà vu crept up on her, unease with it. The sense of _familiarity_ had to be misplaced. He wasn’t Zack. And yet….

As she watched him get up and piece his bearings together….he moved light on his feet, but powerful and strong. Just like Zack. The same uniform, the same eyes, the same…. _feeling_. But something was off about him...

Whoever this boy was, the Planet had sent him to her.

This time, she would not stay behind. “Have you ever been a bodyguard?” She heard herself say, watching him closely. He hefted his weapon to a magnetic latch-and-harness on his back. She glanced up through the hole in the roof. No one should have survived a fall like that. Just like Zack. 

Whatever had made the Planet reach out to him, whatever the Planet was trying to tell her, it started with him. Aeris could feel that as certain as water was wet, deep in her gut. The Planet was telling her to pay attention. Her mother had told her that it might happen. And if it did, then to make sure she _listened._ The Cetra were tied to the Planet. Hardly anything happened by accident.

So she took him home. He was quiet and reserved and very polite to her mother, moreso than Zack had been, honestly. Though Zack’s whirlwind entrance into her life had caused some much-welcome (and not-so-welcome) chaos in his wake. The chaos in Cloud’s wake was….worse.

But later, when she learned what had truly happened to him. To both Zack and Cloud—the years they’d spent being tortured by Hojo. If she’d gone with Zack, could she have saved them both? 

Well, nothing she could do about that. This time, she’d stick with him. This time, she would listen. 

 

 

When Cloud came out of the spooky mansion (it felt so _wrong,_ so much _anguish)_ with Vincent in tow, she felt it again. The icy grip of cold certainty. If she had let Cloud leave, would this haunted former-Turk with his creepy crimson stare have eventually surfaced up in Midgar, to find Jenova or Hojo—

Aeris shook herself. She hadn’t stayed in Midgar, so theoreticals didn’t matter. She went to Vincent first, gentle and courteous. “Please sit, Mister Valentine. You look like you’ve been through a lot. Your hair is a nest of rats.”

He seemed to ponder that. “I would have expected spiders or bones. Perhaps rats are better.”

Aeris beamed at him and pulled out her hair brush. And then Vincent seemed to realize she actually intended to use it on him. The tall, somber man hesitated and in his moment of uncertainty, the boisterous young lady pulled him down to sit on a freshly-made bed at the inn. Her touch was gentle, courteous, as she untangled his hair and chased a cobweb or two out of it. 

Whatever had happened to him, it was down there in the dark, dank cold of the laboratory. Its grasp lingered, like he couldn’t get warm. Her inherent connection to the Lifestream, reached instinctively for the transplanted piece that was his. Just like Cloud. Just like Zack.

She felt his shoulders stiffen just a hair. _(Too light. She’s too bright. Too warm. Too good. I’m wrong. I am wrongwrongwrong.)_ “Don’t worry, Mister Valentine,” she said, absently continuing to comb his long, soft hair. “My hair brushings never killed anyone yet.”

She _felt_ Vincent consider her, even though she could only see the back of his head. And…very softly, almost unperceptively, he relaxed. Just a smidgeon. Little by little, Aeris let the comb drag gently over his scalp and sensed his heart rate slow again. Felt the poor man tremble a little as he likely remembered whatever he’d been through. _(So dark, so dark, so darkdarkdark)_

She tied his hair back from his face with a leather throng, leaving a curtain of bangs for him to lurk behind while still being combat-ready. He felt so cold. “Much better and I bet less itchy. I’ll go into town and get some supplies for you, okay?”

“And some clothes to wear,” Tifa added. “You smell like mothballs, man. These need to be washed or something.”

“So you’re like, seventy or something, huh?” Barret said. 

“According to the date, that is so,” Vincent agreed, sounding like he didn’t think much of dates one way or the other. 

“Let’s rest and get out of here,” Cloud said. “This place is giving me the creeps.”

“This has to be Shinra’s work,” Tifa growled. “Nibelheim was burned to the ground.”

“Let’s just get out of here, we’ll go to Rocket Town and see what we can find out,” Barret groused at them. “But y’both are agitated and you need to chill.”


	6. Captain Highwind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a short bit about them meeting Cid and Aeris thinking about how the lifestream interacts with him and with Tifa.
> 
> I feel like the topic of the lifestream was somewhat underdeveloped and I really like its potential. Also, Cid is my favorite character and he gets left out so much when he's so goddamn cool (And _hot,_ not gonna lie.)
> 
>  **Edit:** And I decided to tweak some of Shera's lines because I absolutely despise the pathetic trope that she is cast in, in the original game. So I'm going to change it.
> 
> \--------------------------------------
> 
> Tifa leapt up after Aeris healed her, just as Palmer tried to make a run for it and got hit by a truck.
> 
> Everyone froze. Except Yuffie, who burst out laughing.  
> \---------------------------------------

"Captain!” The woman stopped short as the door flew open and a man entered.

He was big, barrel-chested, with arms like tree stumps, a rough six o’clock shadow and a cigarette perched precariously in the corner of his mouth. His sky-blue eyes went over the strangers in his house. Tifa felt an entirely unexpected flash of heat in her gut when the rugged Captain made eye contact with her. And then he looked away ( _Thankfully,_ Tifa thought, suddenly ashamed of the goosebumps on her arms). “Shera, you got this or what? Sent Strife down here almost twenty minutes ago. You just been jawin at ‘em?”

Shera snorted. "You want him to have tea twenty minutes ago maybe you shoulda come outta the damn rocket and made it yourself." She pointed her sugar tongs at him, scowling. 

Cid rolled his eyes and shook his head, sitting down at the small table. “Well, y’all might as well sit.”

“We’re fine. We would just like to negotiate the charter of your plane,” Cloud offered, sitting down across from the older man. 

“Yeah, well, Prez Rufus is coming in today and if he starts up the space program, I’ll let you do whatever the hell ya want with the Bronco. But until then, can’t make any promises, kid. I built the Bronco myself. I ain’t in the habit of just lending it out to anybody.”

Cloud chose not to respond to Cid calling him 'kid'. “Rufus Shinra is coming to Rocket Town? _Today?”_

“Holy shit, are we _lucky_ or what? Boom!” Yuffie beamed. 

Cid lifted his eyebrows. “Trying to meet with Rufus? Why? His hair secret is, presumably, just chocobo shit. I've seen the little fuck a couple times.”

“He does kind of smell like chocobo,” Nanaki affirmed with a grave solemnity that made Barret laugh. 

“So who’re all of you?” Cid asked, gesturing to the table as Shera finally brought tea and cakes. “And y’all gonna sit or _what!_ My shit not good enough for you? Siddown, eat some fucking cake and drink yer goddamn tea!”

Everyone took a seat, except Nanaki, who sat on the rug and Yuffie, who sat next to him and absently petted his mane. 

“Barret Wallace,” Barret volunteered, eyeing Captain Cid. “Originally from North Corel, Shinra troops burned it down, so I went to Midgar.”

“Same story, different town for me and Tifa,” Cloud added, “just switch Corel for Nibelheim.”

“I sell flowers in Midgar,” Aeris told him, smiling prettily at him. Cid’s spirit energy was different from the others. Machines spoke to him as a person might, like the lifestream spoke to her. Like Bugenhagen was so intertwined with both. Cid felt like that, cool metal from the earth and a wild wind to lift him up. The feeling of _freedom_ the first time he’d ever sailed above the trees. Another intense personality that had a bone to pick with Shinra. The man was rough and smelled like pipe tobacco and engine oil. It was actually pleasant, in a Bugenhagen sort of way. Cid also watched all of them in turn, his eyes were always shifting. He was paying close attention to their group dynamics. 

“And we found Mister Valentine here sealed up in a coffin,” Cait Sith tacked on, gesturing to Vincent. “And in Nibelheim, no less.”

“Yeah, that town has nothing but bad luck,” Cid agreed darkly. He glared at Vincent’s plate. “You ain’t eatin anything. What’d you eat in your coffin, bud? Fill up on spiderwebs?”

Yuffie cackled. “Did we even ask if he eats food? Vincent, I mean, you eat food, right?"

"After so many years, I did not notice--"

"Oh my God, yes or no?"

“Yuffie! Don’t be rude!” Aeris scolded.

Vincent barely flickered and then gave a single nod. "I may.”

“So….are you just homeless?” Cid asked, still looking confused.

“Oh no, he was definitely trapped in a coffin for thirty years,” Yuffie answered.

Cait Sith chuckled. “It was weird, y’know. Rolled up, neat as you please. His cape might be the only thing holding him together.”

“He also might be a vampire,” Yuffie suggested.

“He's not a vampire, Yuffie!” Cloud rolled his eyes.

“I’m a former Turk.”

 _That_ made the pilot lift his eyebrows, going still. “Oh really? A Turk, huh. I met a couple of those types over the years.” He drummed his fingers on the table thoughtfully. “So, Valentine, Strife, Wallace, Lockhart—you all have worked with, or had dealings with, ShinRa before. I bet about ten thousand gil that the kid is from Wutai, so I imagine she won’t tell ShinRa anything but to fuck off.”

“This guy gets it!” Yuffie chuckled, digging into as many cakes as she could fit on her plate. Her pack was already stuffed.

But Cid still peered curiously at them. “Okay, but something doesn’t add up here—“

The door shook from a sharp _bang! bang! bang!_ and then Palmer burst inside. “Captain Highwind!”

“Palmer! You fucking dunce!” The pilot jumped up. “Where’s Rufus? He said he’s coming to look at the rocket?”

“He’s out front—oh, is that cake?” 

“Have a seat,” Shera grumbled, rolling her eyes at the executive.

“Fucking useless,” Cid grumbled, pointing at Palmer as he stalked out. 

“He is really grouchy,” Yuffie said, seeming more amused than anything else. She saw Tifa try to hide a guilty-looking smirk.

“Man wants to go to space,” Palmer said, as if that settled the matter, turning up his nose at Yuffie. “Not that it matters. Rufus wants to charter the Tiny Bronco to cross the sea whether Highwind likes it or not. Cid’s a fool for clinging to that dream. Rufus doesn’t care about space. How long ago was it, Shera? When Cid chose to save your life instead of just letting you get incinerated?” 

Shera’s shoulders curled in angrily, back to them all as she glared down at her teapot. She didn’t answer. 

Palmer scoffed as he spread honey and butter liberally on a scone. “Best pilot of a generation after he was picked up at the academy. Wasting away in the middle of nowhere. Pity he hates Midgar, I think Scarlett would like him. Ha. Of course, after he botched the mission, we lost almost all our funding.” Palmer bit into the scone vengefully. "Believe me, Shera, if it had been anyone else piloting that day--you'd be dead."

“Oh, _shut up,_ Palmer. You're just a coward,” Tifa finally snapped, rolling her eyes. 

The squat little man froze there in Cid’s chair before his eyes darted up, as if he had just realized whom he was sitting with. His fleshy jowls went the color of milk. “Oh, it’s you. Avalanche. You were—when the president was killed! You—!”

Shera startled. “What?! Avalanche!”

“Aw, goddammit!” Barret lunged but Palmer was up and out of his chair, sprinting passed Aeris and racing out the back door. 

“How is he so goddamn fast!” Tifa was up, planting her boot on the table and vaulting over it. She slammed through the back door, sprinting to pounce on the rotund little man before he could warn Rufus. They tumbled. 

Yuffie darted after them. "Dibs if he's got Sneak Attack or Speed Plus!"

Palmer screeched, whirling around wildly with some sort of large-barreled pistol. Tifa slammed her boot into his knee and got one punch that definitely broke his nose before he pulled the trigger. She was blasted back, fire flashing over her and blistering her skin in agony—

And then an airy shield absorbed the next blast as Yuffie and Cloud appeared. With a whoop and a holler, the ninja flung her shuriken as Cloud blasted Palmer’s feet with ice. Aeris hurried over to renew her shield and reach with her Cure materia, knitting the skin to what the lifestream remembered about Tifa. 

After all, Aeris did not hate Tifa. But Aeris did not _trust_ Tifa, either. It wasn’t meanly meant. Just…something about the other young woman was….off. Tifa had surprisingly little to say about Cloud’s memory of her near-death experience. It wasn’t something Aeris could pin down, exactly, and so, at first, she simply kept her interactions….carefully polite. She saw the lifestream and how it interacted and worked with Tifa. She wasn’t naturally as adept as Aeris but she was just as decent with materia as Barret and Cloud. But clouding it all (haha) was this strange sense of…. _confusion_ from Tifa. 

When they went to Cosmo Canyon and Tifa offered to talk with her about Zack, Aeris was reluctant, at first. But something in Tifa’s gaze made her stay. And the more Tifa spoke about losing someone, skirting the edges of Nibelheim without actually really discussing what happened there, the more something twinged in the back of Aeris’ mind. Something about _this._ The lifestream was very active under the Canyon and it clustered like beautiful glimmering dust, reaching for Tifa. It wanted something. It _knew_ something.

She’d been with Cloud in Nibelheim. Perhaps, there was more to come. Perhaps, Tifa’s role wasn’t over. The Planet was watching them all. In Cosmo Canyon it was louder than Midgar, the Planet observing and trying to _know_ each of them. Or maybe the Planet already did know them and was simply guiding Aeris to find each one that the Planet needed. 

That heartfelt talk in the Canyon made Aeris watch Tifa closer. And she saw a young woman who was confused, struggling with some sort of internal dilemma. Whatever it was, it weighed heavy on Tifa’s strong shoulders. Something was eating at her, the lifestream reflected that feeling. But the woman was so _guarded._

If it weren’t for the weirdness with Cloud….

Aeris kept telling herself that she wasn’t overly fond of Cloud. She had flirted a little. So had he. Harmless. And that was it. There was no chance of….that. Something was going to happen and the Planet was more important than….

….than trying to comfort his bad dreams, make him smile when he was often so lonesome inside, Cloud’s quiet, thoughtful gaze….

The harder Aeris tried to ignore it, the harder it pushed back. Tifa couldn’t seem to decide what she wanted from Cloud and Aeris was just impulsive enough to take a chance here and there. And the lifestream reflected so _strongly_ in him, pulling her into his orbit—she was going to need him. The Planet was going to need him. Though she wasn’t sure how just yet. 

He was going to need Tifa. And so Aeris did not hate the other girl. Could not. She could sense that Tifa was distressed deeply about something, it was tearing her apart but she would not speak of it. Barret noticed it the most and initially brushed it off as a crush or something. But Nanaki also sensed it, for his connection to the lifestream, like hers, was strong as a bonfire. It might even be stronger than hers. For his race—whatever he was—was clearly connected to the planet, possibly even a native species. It was sad to think of him all alone in the world, but they could be alone together, perhaps. Nanaki had confirmed her own odd feelings about Tifa’s behavior. So they observed and would confer about them when they took watch together. 

Tifa leapt up after Aeris healed her, just as Palmer tried to make a run for it and got hit by a truck.

Everyone froze. Except Yuffie, who burst out laughing. 

Barret threw open the door to the Tiny Bronco and started the engine. 

Cloud suddenly spun around. “Where the hell is Vincent?”

“Oh, he’s still inside,” Cait Sith said, breaking into a chuckle. “Guess he hasn’t had cake in a while.”

Aeris and Tifa both snorted. 

“Tifa, go get Vincent—we’re taking the plane,” Cloud decided. 

“Seriously, get the _hell_ in the goddamn plane!” Barret roared at them. “That truck got Turks on it! I don’t think they want that moldy-ass rocket!”

For a moment, Yuffie looked tempted, but Cloud grabbed her and hauled her into the cargo compartment. 

“Is this a chopper?” Nanaki asked, bracing his back paws to the small sitting compartment and digging his claws into the cushions. 

“Naw, this is a dual-propeller airplane, buddy,” Cait Sith answered, cramming down tight with Mog.

Cloud took the controls. They felt it heave and _lurch—_

 

 

When Palmer fled, Shera burst out the front door, grabbing her shotgun and pointing it at the ShinRa guards--

To Cid bellowing: “WHAT! You got me all excited for nothin! Then what the fuck are you doing here, boy! You already stole my goddamn airship!”

Rufus’ expression went cold and hooded. “That’s President Rufus Shinra to you, an employee of mine, who should remember who made him a pilot in the first place. We want to charter the Tiny Bronco.”

Cid’s eyebrows shot up and then narrowed in. “I don’t give a fuck if you’re the lead of Loveless, you pipsqueak, stink-eyed, pompous little shit!”

“Either charter us the Tiny Bronco or we will simply take it, Captain Highwind. Are you prepared to fight right here?“

The door flew open behind Shera and a ghostly dark shadow flickered over to Cid. Instantly, the Turks around the President pulled weapons. Vincent had his gun drawn as he materialized fully. 

“Uh, who the fuck is that?” Reno asked, laughing and cocking a thumb at Vincent.

Cid tensed, looking sidelong at Vincent in surprise.

The dark man offered out his spear, which Cid took automatically. Vincent said: “The cake and tea were very good. Thank you. I will assist you.” 

“And who are _you_ now?” Rufus demanded, starting to look harassed. 

“My name is Vincent Valentine.”

Rufus peered at Vincent for a moment and then shrugged. “You’ll regret this, Captain Highwind. We could have, at least, done business.”

Cid expertly flipped his spear. “All the fucks I had went cockwise with your goddamn rocket!”

But before anyone could throw a punch, Tifa burst through the door. “Captain! We gotta go, _now!”_

The airplane suddenly smashed over the fence.

Cid threw his arms up in dismay. “Oh, what the fuck—“

Vincent grabbed his jacket as Tifa raced along the street towards them. “C’mon! Inside the plane!” Tifa slammed into a soldier with a machine gun, cracking his spine, before whirling on to chase the Bronco as it struggled to gain momentum. 

Cid could feel the solid grip in Vincent’s hand before he _saw_ the man seem to turn to black sand and suddenly, they were slamming into the Bronco and hands were pulling them in and the girl jumped onto the step and held herself in the doorway, straining against the air pressure. Cid grabbed Tifa by her leather belt and yanked her fully inside the plane. The pilot scooped Tifa under him before he thundered up. “How many goddamn people are in this thing?!”

“Cloud, the fucking alarm—“

“Captain, get up here!” Cloud shouted frantically. “I don’t know what to—“

And then it spiraled.


End file.
